


Courtesy of Champagne

by abriata



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abriata/pseuds/abriata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve ficlet! Happy 2012!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courtesy of Champagne

He's in the middle of Times Square on the most crowded night of the year and his friends have abandoned him. Mark pushes his way through the crowd, against the tide of people pushing forward towards the lights and the stages and the ball. It's two minutes to midnight - some people are already counting down - and he has lost everyone he knows.

New Year's Eve in New York is definitely going down as the worst idea Dustin has ever had, including that poisonous squid thing for Biology class. Mark has been handed a dozen glow sticks, taken at least six probably drugged drinks, and the next person who shoves a hat on his head is going to die by crowd crush. Dustin and Chris and every other person on their dorm floor are somewhere else in the crowd, probably huddled together for protection from the insanity.

Insult to injury, the night is fucking perfect. It's forty degrees and clear and the stars are so bright they're almost visible through the smear of New York skyline. At least it's not snowing.

"You're going the wrong way!" someone yells helpfully and grabs his shoulder, spinning him around.

Mark grunts, caught and held in the motion by thousands of people, and gets dragged with the press of bodies back in the wrong direction.

"Here," someone else yells, and pushes him around again.

"Fuck off!" Mark yells back and then the countdown hits one minute.

"I'm trying to help you!" the guy says, and Mark twists around. He's drunk and it's harder than it should be.

"I'm trying to find someone," Mark half-yells, just to be heard over the screaming voices chanting, part of the rising mob of _thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight_ around them.

"Who?" the guys half-yells back, and then shakes his head. "Never mind!" he says. "It's too late to find them now!"

"Thanks!" Mark says, but sarcasm really doesn't translate well when you're shouting at the top of your lungs.

"It's no problem!" the guy hollers back, but it's a little redundant now because his mouth is about six inches from Mark's face.

"No, I didn't actually mean--" Mark says, but the guy says, "I can fill in for whoever you're looking for," and smiles _five four three two_ \--

Mark doesn't notice the lights or the ball or the screaming and crying all around as the guy kisses him, all the way about it like a headlong rush, and Mark holds on to his shoulders for dear life as the mob around them sighs like a living thing, the first indrawn breath of the new year. He's warm in the cold and tastes like glitter and beer as Mark kisses back.

Mark breathes with them on the exhale as the guy releases him. He even ignores the undoubtedly stupid hat the guy shoves onto his head.

"Happy New Year," the guy says. "I'm Eduardo, and please tell me you aren't looking for your boyfriend."

"I'm not looking for anyone," Mark says.


End file.
